Ok. So picture the Judd's singing, "Grandpa, tell me 'bout the good old days." Let that tune stick in your mind as you read the following paragraphs.
I love the old ways of life that have mysteriously found me. I was raised in the city limits of Scottsville, Kentucky. I loved looking at the "moo cows" that just so happened to be in our backyard, separated by a fence, thanks to a neighbor who owned just enough land to accommodate them. They were friendly for the most part, but I always longed for one of them to let me feed it from my bare hands. I got close a few times, but their skiddish demeanor left them just out of reach.
My small city life as a child was good, safe, and reliable. My parents worked their tails off, ensuring that bills were paid and we had food on the table. We bought new tennis shoes, once a year at the beginning of school. We were never allowed to wear them out of the house until that first day of school. To break them in ahead of time, me and my brothers would wear them inside the house, racing up and down the hallway. Our normal may not have been like everyone else's, but we were content with what we had. We didn't ask for much. Occasionally, at the Dollar General Store, Momma would let us all have a candy bar and a coke. And that made us all happy.
The hustle and bustle of life caught its grips on me. For many years, I lived a life that I was happy with. Being busy and in the world was expected, and knowing nothing different, I simply chose to live. That world was then, unexpectedly turned upside down one summer day in 2016 and I suddenly found myself completely alone.
The following months were excruciating. Having someone that you held so much confidence in, suddenly rip you apart is indescribable. I didn't know what was going to happen next in my life. Something/someone that I had been so used to...the only thing I had ever known was suddenly no more.
I started looking for a new home, ready to leave my old life behind. Unbeknownst to me, I was in the process of purchasing a place that would be three houses away from my future boyfriend. I met Andrew in April of 2017. He was completely different than anyone I had ever met. My "used to" was going out to eat multiple times a week, standing out in a crowd of people, always being seen. Andrew, I would learn, was an introvert, staying to himself; a man of few words. While conversing with the public was difficult for him, conversation flowed freely between the two of us. We talked about simple things: banjo picking, church, family, dreams. We came to realize we didn't need that busy world around us. We only needed each other.
I quickly adapted to a new life. A life where I was viewed as someone who could genuinely help when needed, even if it be in my weak girl ways (chicken feed is heavy). A relationship grew that involved rich communication, a desire to always consider the ones nearest to me, and a dream to make what we have going on into a permanent, oh so good, way of life.
Me and Andrew strive to make our ways simple. We love getting our hands dirty, don't mind sweat glistening our brow, and have given up completely on making sure that we look presentable for one another (that was a me thing, not a he thing). Carhartt overalls, Muck boots, ball caps, smudges of mud and poo on everything is our normal. We work all day to come home and work into the night. We have come to appreciate a hard days work because it allows us to rest so well when we lay our head down at night. We laugh, cry, hope, and pray together, always building on what we can do to make our dreams come true. The rest of the world is blotted out. We remain in focus.
Our gardening and homestead adventures continue to be the focal point of our lives that have built and seasoned an amazing relationship. We are working on a new adventure together that we cannot wait to share. Andrew has been working tirelessly on an amazing produce stand that we will sell our goods from at the top of a hill. We love working in the dirt and seeing what a small seed can in turn produce. We love what we do so much that we are getting out of our bubble, just a smidge, because we want to share it with others. We hope that they, that you can see that through hard work and dedication to one another, a lifetime of love, peace, and security can unfold. Andrew and I thought long and hard what we wanted to call our little farm, our little garden, our little homestead. Because we love the good old ways, and we try to keep our lives as simple as possible, we decided to call our little honest stand, "Old Paths Produce."
You can find us on Instagram! @OldPathsProduce https://www.instagram.com/oldpathsproduce/
We aren't looking to get rich. If we could pay for the seeds that we bought to germinate, and maybe even the propane that was needed to heat our greenhouse, that would be fabulous. If it's a bust, oh well. We tried! If it becomes something more, we will enjoy the ride, every mile of the way. We chose a name that we could take with us, wherever life leads, knowing that in our bones, we strive to connect back to the old paths that brought us where we are today. I thank God for my grandparents who slaved over their gardens to help feed their family. Andrew talks all the time about his Grandma Holcomb. The influence she had on him is evident, in the special rocks he picks up along the garden bed to add to his collection, a hobby that she once did. I believe her rocks are still in the same pile in her yard, forgotten by many, but remembered by the ones that matter. Those old souls have shaped us to the humans we are today, and I hope that in some way I can be just like Betty Joyce, and Andrew can be just like his Pa Ivan. We work for the desires of our heart, taking council in a creator who has given us all that we need. Good dirt, a few seeds, plenty of showers, and that ray of sunshine. These simple things, we are certain, will help these old paths continue forever more.
I love the old ways of life that have mysteriously found me. I was raised in the city limits of Scottsville, Kentucky. I loved looking at the "moo cows" that just so happened to be in our backyard, separated by a fence, thanks to a neighbor who owned just enough land to accommodate them. They were friendly for the most part, but I always longed for one of them to let me feed it from my bare hands. I got close a few times, but their skiddish demeanor left them just out of reach.
My small city life as a child was good, safe, and reliable. My parents worked their tails off, ensuring that bills were paid and we had food on the table. We bought new tennis shoes, once a year at the beginning of school. We were never allowed to wear them out of the house until that first day of school. To break them in ahead of time, me and my brothers would wear them inside the house, racing up and down the hallway. Our normal may not have been like everyone else's, but we were content with what we had. We didn't ask for much. Occasionally, at the Dollar General Store, Momma would let us all have a candy bar and a coke. And that made us all happy.
The hustle and bustle of life caught its grips on me. For many years, I lived a life that I was happy with. Being busy and in the world was expected, and knowing nothing different, I simply chose to live. That world was then, unexpectedly turned upside down one summer day in 2016 and I suddenly found myself completely alone.
The following months were excruciating. Having someone that you held so much confidence in, suddenly rip you apart is indescribable. I didn't know what was going to happen next in my life. Something/someone that I had been so used to...the only thing I had ever known was suddenly no more.
I started looking for a new home, ready to leave my old life behind. Unbeknownst to me, I was in the process of purchasing a place that would be three houses away from my future boyfriend. I met Andrew in April of 2017. He was completely different than anyone I had ever met. My "used to" was going out to eat multiple times a week, standing out in a crowd of people, always being seen. Andrew, I would learn, was an introvert, staying to himself; a man of few words. While conversing with the public was difficult for him, conversation flowed freely between the two of us. We talked about simple things: banjo picking, church, family, dreams. We came to realize we didn't need that busy world around us. We only needed each other.
I quickly adapted to a new life. A life where I was viewed as someone who could genuinely help when needed, even if it be in my weak girl ways (chicken feed is heavy). A relationship grew that involved rich communication, a desire to always consider the ones nearest to me, and a dream to make what we have going on into a permanent, oh so good, way of life.
Me and Andrew strive to make our ways simple. We love getting our hands dirty, don't mind sweat glistening our brow, and have given up completely on making sure that we look presentable for one another (that was a me thing, not a he thing). Carhartt overalls, Muck boots, ball caps, smudges of mud and poo on everything is our normal. We work all day to come home and work into the night. We have come to appreciate a hard days work because it allows us to rest so well when we lay our head down at night. We laugh, cry, hope, and pray together, always building on what we can do to make our dreams come true. The rest of the world is blotted out. We remain in focus.
Our gardening and homestead adventures continue to be the focal point of our lives that have built and seasoned an amazing relationship. We are working on a new adventure together that we cannot wait to share. Andrew has been working tirelessly on an amazing produce stand that we will sell our goods from at the top of a hill. We love working in the dirt and seeing what a small seed can in turn produce. We love what we do so much that we are getting out of our bubble, just a smidge, because we want to share it with others. We hope that they, that you can see that through hard work and dedication to one another, a lifetime of love, peace, and security can unfold. Andrew and I thought long and hard what we wanted to call our little farm, our little garden, our little homestead. Because we love the good old ways, and we try to keep our lives as simple as possible, we decided to call our little honest stand, "Old Paths Produce."
You can find us on Instagram! @OldPathsProduce https://www.instagram.com/oldpathsproduce/
Coming May, 2019
We aren't looking to get rich. If we could pay for the seeds that we bought to germinate, and maybe even the propane that was needed to heat our greenhouse, that would be fabulous. If it's a bust, oh well. We tried! If it becomes something more, we will enjoy the ride, every mile of the way. We chose a name that we could take with us, wherever life leads, knowing that in our bones, we strive to connect back to the old paths that brought us where we are today. I thank God for my grandparents who slaved over their gardens to help feed their family. Andrew talks all the time about his Grandma Holcomb. The influence she had on him is evident, in the special rocks he picks up along the garden bed to add to his collection, a hobby that she once did. I believe her rocks are still in the same pile in her yard, forgotten by many, but remembered by the ones that matter. Those old souls have shaped us to the humans we are today, and I hope that in some way I can be just like Betty Joyce, and Andrew can be just like his Pa Ivan. We work for the desires of our heart, taking council in a creator who has given us all that we need. Good dirt, a few seeds, plenty of showers, and that ray of sunshine. These simple things, we are certain, will help these old paths continue forever more.
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